


Indivisible

by magicranberries



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Hints of dubcon, M/M, Multi, PWP, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicranberries/pseuds/magicranberries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock loves John, John loves Mycroft, and Mycroft loves Sherlock.  </p>
<p>But that's okay, because it's more efficient to do it this way.  And the Holmes brothers are all about efficiency.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indivisible

They all know that they shouldn't be doing this- well, Mycroft and John do, though the thought probably never crossed Sherlock's mind- but John loves Mycroft and Mycroft loves Sherlock and Sherlock loves John, so this is the only way to do things that really makes sense. And the Holmes brothers are all about practicality, about the efficiency of three taking care of their physical needs in one go.

The strange part is that it isn't at all strange, really. They fit together casually, folding together seamlessly like a mathematical sequence, like an essential part of nature that can't be divided without destruction of all its parts. It's a way of coming together that is unmistakable in its perversity, and yet, none of them seem to be bothered.

Mycroft kisses Sherlock hungrily, tongue flicking into the corners of his mouth, and yes, this isn't who Sherlock wants, but he's close enough, and John is watching, anyway, isn't he, and doesn't that mean that Sherlock...

But the rest of the sentence doesn't have the chance to formulate in Sherlock's brain, because now John is behind him, kissing his neck, and for all of his brilliance Sherlock never thought it would be like this, the all-infusing heat that seems to turn supernova in his belly. Here, he can ignore that John's position is formulated to give him a perfectly clear view of Mycroft, and that he's watching the man hungrily even as he attacks Sherlock's neck. 

This isn't something he ever thought he would want, isn't sure even now that he wants it. But this is John, who is good, who is soldierly and dependable and all around him, with the possibility of being inside of him, and really, what man wouldn't willingly sleep with his brother for a chance at that?

And Mycroft is enjoying it enough for them both, it seems. He moans, loudly, detached from his usual crisp persona now that he's had his uniform peeled away, and he seems as raw and alive as any normal being. All three of them are hard- Sherlock achingly so, as John drizzles lube onto his own hand and bites his shoulder, leaving teeth marks that make him gasp and lean into him further, into the hand that is gently beginning to tease him into opening.

Mycroft is now sucking determinedly at one of his nipples, and that's good too, the sight of it making John swear and press his fingers more insistently into Sherlock. He thinks he might have an aneurism, like the cabbie, dead man walking, because surely, surely he is not made for this kind of emotion. His nerve endings are on fire, and everything is unfamiliar, and his brain is working at about half capacity. It should be terrifying, but the panic falls away under the pressure of John's hips rutting against his arse and Mycroft's tongue slowly beginning to run around the glans of his cock.

John's fingers are still fluttering within him, reaching further, moving with characteristic precision. Because John is good, and John is strong and loyal, and yes, John removes his fingers and tilts Sherlock's hips into a wanton position, Mycroft following along so that he lies underneath his brother, licking away the slow drops of precome and making a show of enjoying it. 

He's putting on a show for John, to make John fuck him better, and Sherlock knows this. The information slips from his brain and seems to settle as heat, diffusing itself in his entire lower body, and if John doesn't fuck him soon Sherlock will scream. 

And Sherlock doesn't want that. The screaming would ruin the beautiful symphony they're making together, the three of them, the soft sound of sucking, low moans echoing from one of them- which one it is doesn't matter, not any more, and he can't imagine it ever will again. The new, plastic click of the bottle of lube. The noises it makes as John opens the bottle, squeezes some out, and slicks up his own cock, now a deep red and hard as granite. 

And there's another sound, too, one Sherlock hadn't been aware of at all, but it's coming from his own mouth. He's begging John, actually begging, and the sound of it makes Mycroft take him deeper into his mouth. 

“Please, John, please, I need it, oh god, please, please, I'll do anything, just please, you're so lovely, I need you, oh fuck, John...”

Then he's there, sliding into Sherlock, filling him with slow thrusts until Sherlock does scream, a wild, petulant sound as he thrusts his hips back into John, temporarily dislodging Mycroft's mouth from its grip on his cock. And perhaps that's for the best, because now Mycroft is free to speak to John, giving him directions on precisely how to fuck his little brother.

His voice is low, wrecked with lust, as he murmurs, “Good, John. Just like that. He's such a lovely little cock slut, look at that. He likes it, you know. How far you stretch him, how big your cock is. He's so greedy for it. Now angle up a bit more- there, that's very good, see how much he likes it? Fucking slut would take it any way it comes, but he likes this the best. Don't you, Sherlock? On your hands and knees, pushing back onto John's nice, fat cock? I bet it's the biggest one you've ever taken, isn't that right? Your hole is stretched so tight around it, but you have to take it all, don't you, because you're just so fucking desperate for cock.”

John is panting loudly now, sweat dripping down his chest. Mycroft has moved behind him, rubbing his hands down John's chest as he thrusts into Sherlock harder and harder with each word Mycroft says. His eyes look half-crazed as he leans backwards, kissing Mycroft deeply in order to stop the flow of words he knows will make him come. The kissing distracts him from fucking Sherlock, who is having none of this. With a wail, he thrusts himself backwards, hard, until he's wall and truly fucking himself on John's cock.

John breaks off Mycroft's kiss with a gasp, returning to fucking Sherlock with abandon. He pushes back in, hard, and Sherlock gasps, far too close, far too soon. 

Mycroft seems content now to watch, rubbing his palm along his own dick as he watches Sherlock throw his head back with abandon, face taut with pleasure. 

“That's right, John. Just look at how much he wants it. Look at how nice your cock looks, disappearing into his hole, and isn't he pretty like this? Gasping for it? He'd be willing to do anything for your cock, you know. Get down on his knees any time, any where. In front of Scotland Yard, even, everyone looking at the great Sherlock Holmes being taken apart, debasing himself, choking on you with everyone watching because he's so fucking in love with your thick, lovely cock.”

John's watching him avidly, eyes wide and hips thrusting as fast as he's able, losing himself in the tightness of Sherlock's arse and the lust dripping from Mycroft's words. 

Mycroft moves around to Sherlock's face, lifting his chin up with two fingers to look him in the eye. His eyes are dreamy, glazed over with pleasure as he bites his lip and moans when John hits a particularly good angle.  
“Good, John. Yes, he likes that, doesn't he? I bet he'd like to be filled all the way, covered in come, he's so fucking desperate for it. I bet he'd even beg for a taste of his own brother's cock, wouldn't he? Beg to feel it in his mouth just so you'll keep fucking him.”

John gets the hint and slows down his thrusts, moving in and out of Sherlock with an unbearable slowness that makes Sherlock's gaze go wild.

“Oh, please, John,” he rasps, his voice hoarse from his earlier wimpers. “Please, please, please.” 

He would normally hate himself for his inarticulacy, but now he doesn't care. All that matters is that John stop this infuriating pace, and fuck him, hard.

“John won't fuck you properly until you tell us what you want.” Mycroft drags his thumb over Sherlcok's lip. “Tell us what you want, little brother.”

Sherlock gasps a few times, trying to catch his breath, but John's cock barely nudges against his prostate and he loses it again.

“Hmm. Yes, it must be difficult to speak when you've got such a lovely cock inside you, even if it's not fucking you properly. John?”

John pulls himself all the way out of Sherlock with a groan, and Sherlock's hips away from him as he tilts them backwards, searching for the fullness he's so desperately missing.

Mycroft smiles his Iceman smile, all teeth, as Sherlock whimpers pitifully, out of his mind with need. He runs his hand through Sherlock's hair, leaving it to lightly cup Sherlock's jaw. 

“Now, Sherlock. Be a good boy and tell us what you want. You know we'd do anything for you. You just have to tell us what. You. Want.” His breath ghosts across Sherlock's lips, and Sherlock's tongue darts out to wet them. John is watching avidly, cock standing straight out in front of him and he doesn't think he's ever been harder, listening to Mycroft's low, smooth tones.

“Oh god,” Sherlock whimpers. “Please, John, Mycroft, please.” 

“Please what, Sherlock? You have to say it.”

“Please fuck me,” Sherlock finally gasps out, stringing together enough brain cells in his arousal-soaked mind to complete the simple sentence. 

“Please fuck me, I want your cock, oh John, I want to, I need to, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, I can't stand it. Oh fuck. John, I want your cock in my arse and I need it, please, please, I'll die if you don't, I need you to fuck me as hard as you can, I can't stand it.”

John shudders as Sherlock continues, looking directly into his brother's eyes.

“Mycroft, I want your cock. Any way you'll have me, any way you'll let John have me, I want you to fill my mouth while John fucks me, I want to be filled from every angle. Oh, please, let me have it?”

Mycroft draws upon all of his self-control at this point, still rubbing his thumb along Sherlock's wet, shiny lip, and imagining how lovely it will look once he finally begins to fuck that mouth.

“And why do you need it, Sherlock? Why are you begging for your big brother's big cock?”

“Because,” Sherlock manages, gritting his teeth with frustrating as John carefully angles his hips away so Sherlock's backwards thrusts won't inadvertently impale him, “Because I'm a fucking cock slut, and I want it, I want to be filled everywhere, oh god, I need it in me, please, please, just fuck me, any way you like, anything, anything, Mycroft.” He gives a final shudder, his eyes drooping closed and his lips closing around Mycroft's thumb and sucking it like it's the only think he knows how to do. 

Mycroft gasps, and, unable to wait any longer, wrenches Sherlock's jaw open and thrusts himself inside, fucking his mouth with the same speed Sherlock needed John to fuck his arse.

“You can start again now, John,” Mycroft says in his most controlled voice- which was, admittedly, a little shaky at this point. “You heard how nicely he begged for cock, it would be wrong to deprive him of it now.”

Sherlock moans at these words, canting his hips upwards again. 

John reapplies lube, and, with a steadying breath, pushes back in, hard.

Sherlock moans wantonly, sending vibrations up his brother's erection as he was impaled, skewered between the only two men who had ever loved him. From there, it doesn't take too long. John watches Mycroft thrust into Sherlock's willing mouth, and the sight alone could have brought him to the edge of orgasm, even without the same man thrusting enthusiastically on his own cock, grinding back against him as if he can't get enough, can't get it deep enough. He grabs Sherlock's hips, and pulls him into the next few thrusts as Sherlock chokes out a long, dawn-out whine of pleasure, his lips going slack around Mycroft's arousal as he comes. John follows, brought to climax by the clenching tightness of Sherlock's orgasm.

Mycroft is close, so close, but he keeps thrusting hard into Sherlock's mouth as his brother recovers and begins to suck again, more enthusiastically than before. John slides out of him and crawls over to Mycroft, first kissing his panting mouth, then bending down and taking his balls into his mouth. He first sucks on one, then the other, reveling in the thin skin, the fullness in his mouth, and the heady scent of arousal. From there, it's only a few more deep thrusts into Sherlock's mouth, and his brother is coming harder than he ever has in his life.

They lie there for a bit, in a heap of limbs and heat. Sweat cools on their bodies, and they remain there, letting themselves recover.

“Well,” Sherlock says hoarsely, clearing his throat a bit. “Do you have an opening in your schedule next Thursday as well, Mycroft?”

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta'd, first attempt at writing. Criticism is always more than welcome!


End file.
